The judge nodded approvingly. “Nevertheless,” said he, “you will remain here, and Bob will go alone. You are in a state of mind, Bob, in which a man is better alone, d’ye see; and so leave the young man here. Another misfortune might happen; and, at any rate, he’s better here than at Johnny’s. Come back to-morrow, and we’ll see what can be done for you.”
These words were spoken in a decided manner, which seemed to have its effect upon Bob. He nodded assentingly, and left the room. I remained staring at the judge, and lost in wonder at these strange proceedings.
When Bob was gone, the Alcalde gave a blast on a shell, which supplied the place of a bell. Then seizing the cigar-box, he tried one cigar after another, broke them peevishly up, and threw the pieces out of the window. The negro, whom the shell had summoned, stood for some time waiting, whilst his master broke up the cigars and threw them away. At last the judge’s patience seemed quite to leave him.
“Hark ye, Ptoly!” growled he to the frightened black, “the next time you bring me cigars that neither draw nor smoke, I’ll make your back smoke for it. Mind that, now. There’s not a single one of them worth a rotten maize-stalk. Tell that old coffee-coloured hag of Johnny’s, that I’ll have no more of her cigars. Ride over to Mr Ducie’s and fetch a box. And, d’ye hear? tell him I want to speak a word with him and the neighbours. Ask him to bring the neighbours with him to-morrow morning. And mind you’re home again by two o’clock. Take the mustang we caught last week. I want to see how he goes.”
The negro listened to these various commands with open mouth and staring eyes, then, giving a perplexed look at his master, shot out of the room.
“Whither away, Ptoly?” shouted the Alcalde after him.
“To Massa Ducie.”
“Without a pass, Ptoly? And what are you going to say to Mr Ducie?”
“Him nebber send bad cigar again, him coffee-cullud hag. Massa speak to Johnny and neighbours. Johnny bring neighbours here.”
“I thought as much,” said the judge, with perfect equanimity. “Wait a minute; I’ll write the pass, and a couple of lines for Mr Ducie.”